The Power of Love
by Winged Elf
Summary: Futurefic. Spoilers for UK viewers, but AU. After Buffy's death, a certain bleached-blond vampire is the only one left to take care of Dawn.


This story was inspired by listening to Huey Lewis and the News too many times, hence the title. That song's got lines about vampires in it, you see. However, this is not a songfic. The fic started out as Angel- protects-Buffy, then morphed into Spike-protects-Buffy-without-her-knowing, and it would probably have never got written if I hadn't been assailed by plot bunnies at midnight, who wouldn't let me sleep until I turned it into Spike-protects-Dawn-after-Buffy's-death. So, it's AU futurefic, set when Dawn's about 18, which is what, three or four years from now? Just assume Buffy was never revived after throwing herself into the vortex. Also, assume there's a Slayer somewhere else, either Faith or someone new. My story doesn't concern that, it's only a vignette really. Look, just read it and you'll see, OK? g means thoughts, and Spike's section is in bold.  
  
Disclaimer: Anything recognisable does not belong to me, it belongs to the Jossgod, and WB or UPN, whoever owns it now. Don't sue, I already owe money to all and sundry. If you don't like it, blame (and flame) the bunnies. Constructive feedback is always welcome, as it hasn't been beta- read, largely because this is my very first posting, so I don't have a beta- reader. Any volunteers?  
  
  
  
1 The Power of Love  
  
Contrary to appearances, Dawn is not completely clueless. Anyone in the know about what really goes on after sunset in Sunnydale might think: Hmmm, pretty young blonde woman walking around in the dark *here*, apparently unarmed – she's vampire bait for sure. Wonder if I should warn her to get inside? But no. Look closer, and you'll see the large cross around her neck and the half-dozen carefully concealed stakes tucked into her waistband under that nice loose top and taped to the inside of her sleeves. What you *won't* see is that the contents of that "perfume bottle" sticking out of her purse aren't any fragrance you'll ever have heard of, but rather freshly blessed holy water from the nearest church. All the weapons she carries, however, will remain exactly where they are unless she happens across a vampire, or vice versa, on her way home. You see, she is very definitely not on patrol. *She*, after all, is not the Slayer. That honour (*misfortune*) belongs to someone else entirely. No, her stakes and holy water are for self-defence only. It has occurred to her to wonder if she'd even be palatable for a vampire. She supposes she would. She is, after all, in human form, and she has always bled like a human. The power of the Key might even add an extra kick to her blood. Either way, it's not worth the risk. So she carries her weapons, but she goes on with her life as normal. Which means walking home from work after sunset. She keeps all her senses on the alert as she walks, but nevertheless she is apparently unaware of the vampire who is two blocks behind her, and maintaining that distance.  
  
Spike sighed. He was tired, and limping. It was hard work keeping the vamps away from the Slayer's sister. They were all out for revenge, or wanted to see if the special quality of Slayer-blood carried over to her immediate family, or both. He supposed it was just a good thing none of them knew about Dawn's own…specialness. That would just bring even more of them out for a taste of Key-blood, and he was having enough trouble fending off the ones who were already around. He knew that Dawn was perfectly capable of looking after herself, and always carried the necessary equipment to do so. He had even seen her Slay vampires a few times, when they got past him or approached from the other side.  
  
However, since Buffy - no! Bad Spike! *Bad Spike*! Thoughts of Buffy's death were more painful than anything the chip could do to him - since…it happened, the Scooby Gang had withered away until he was the only one left in town, and he'd sworn on Buffy's say it grave to protect the Nibblet. She hated that nickname now, but he kept using it. It was a link with the past, and he couldn't get too many of those. They were in short supply, these days.  
  
Yes, the others were all gone. Giles had been the first to go, returning to England to mourn his Slayer and do Watcher research to help the next one. He couldn't be blamed. He'd been shattered by what had happened, as Watchers tended to be. Next, Tara had left, after her and Red's break-up. She hadn't agreed with what Red was trying to do… Xander and Anya had moved on too. After their wedding, the ex-demon had finally prevailed upon the whelp to get off the Hellmouth and find somewhere safer, for the sake of the baby that was soon to be born. He'd agreed because with the heart and soul of the group…gone, there was no reason to stay any more. They'd named their daughter Buffy, he'd heard. That had been a nice gesture. Showed they'd all loved her as much as he had. But then, he'd known that anyway. Why else would anyone stay in the most evil place on Earth?  
  
And Willow…Willow's fate had been the cruellest of them all. She'd told Spike she was going to try to revive Buffy magickally. She tried to enlist Tara's help first, and lost her because of it, so then Spike agreed to assist. Hey, it was better than trying to live the rest of his unlife in the knowledge that he'd failed. That his love was dead *because he'd failed*, and he'd never see her again in this world or, probably, the next. If Willow hadn't given him that chance, he'd almost certainly have staked himself or drunk holy water by now. Or maybe just sat out on a hill somewhere and waited for the sun, as Angel had attempted before him. Anyway, they'd been going to attempt the spell, with the help of a local coven, when the Watchers' Council had apparently got wind of the plan and decided to remove the one person who was both convinced it was the right thing to do and capable of actually going through with it. Their operatives had descended and carted her off, kicking and screaming, to charge her with intent to perform black magic. Spike would have killed them all to free her, chip or no chip, but they'd incapacitated him with a tranq dart, and now they'd be keeping her in solitary for a good long time, if they hadn't already executed her. Buffy, after all, had been too much of a loose cannon for them to want her back any time soon, not when they could have a nice obedient new Slayer to mould to their will. So Spike had failed again, and now he was the only one left. So he couldn't even kill himself now. Otherwise who would look after Lil' Bit (another nickname she hated)?  
  
He wasn't worried about Buffy's grave – it needed no protection. Red had set up wards all around it before they took her, essentially making it a private place so no vampire could get in to desecrate it. Then she had invited him and Angel in. His Sire was still off battling the forces of darkness in L.A. like a good ensouled vampire, but he came to leave a flower on the grave two or three times a year, on various anniversaries. Spike never saw him, but he always knew when he'd been there, because of that flower. Spike himself spent most nights sitting by the grave, once he'd seen Dawn safe home, only moving when he saw the first red fingers of sunrise in the sky, and he knew it was time to get to safety.  
  
Speaking of getting Dawn safe home, heads up. There was another vamp trying to sneak up behind her. Spike sighed again and tapped the bloodsucker on the shoulder before dropping into battle stance. Another fight, and probably another injury, but he could deal with it. What else was his healing factor for? He'd go through anything for Dawn. She reminded him so much of her sister, now she was all grown up. They had the same toughness, but the same vulnerability as well. In short, Dawn was all he had left of Buffy, and there was no way in Hell he was losing her without a fight, whether she knew about it or not. He was pretty sure she wouldn't take kindly to being "protected" as if she couldn't take care of herself, but he *had* to, so he just did it anyway, as quietly as he could, and hoped she wouldn't ever find out.  
  
Dawn heard the faint sounds of the scuffle behind her, and smiled. Tut tut Spike, you used to be quieter than that. Slipping in your old age? She'd been getting a sense of being watched on her way home for months now, and when you added that to the footsteps she occasionally heard without ever getting attacked, and the surprisingly low number of vampires she actually encountered en route, it didn't take a genius to work out what was going on. She knew it wasn't Angel, because she still spoke to him regularly and knew that he had remained in Los Angeles, so that only left one possibility. She had been angry at first, but had quickly realised that if Spike wanted to protect her, there was no force in Heaven, Hell or Earth that was going to stop him. So she just let him do it, and let him imagine that she didn't know about it, since that seemed the kindest way. But no, contrary to appearances, Dawn was not completely clueless. 


End file.
